


Of Blood and Crowns

by TajaReyul



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hp_drizzle, F/M, Gen, History Gone Wild, Mild Gore, One Shot, Rare Pairings, challenge, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TajaReyul/pseuds/TajaReyul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Bloody Baron watches the Grey Lady and remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Blood and Crowns

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the prompt, “A ghost standing in the rain, seeing it splatter all around - hearing it loudly in his/her ears - but not able to feel a thing.”
> 
> I fiddled with the timeline a little. According to the HP Lexicon, Rowena became deathly ill “soon after Helena stole her mother's diadem.” I've stretched that to twenty years. Albania was part of the Byzantine Empire (though not in an uninterrupted span) until 1170. There was an Empress Theodora of Byzantium. She co-ruled with her sister Zoe for two months in 1042 and then in her own right from January of 1055 to August of 1056. Alba is the Gaelic name of Scotland. Thanks to Saint Kargoth and with_rhyme for excellent beta services.

The Bloody Baron stood, or rather floated, just outside the threshold of the corridor that led to the North Courtyard. Rain pounded the ground and splashed back up. In fact, the raindrops fell straight through his ghostly form without pause. Thunder growled toothlessly in the distance.

There was another another phantom form drifting slowly back and forth across the courtyard. The Baron watched her intently. As the sound of the rain drowned out nearly all else, he tried vainly to feel something, anything.

* * *

The Baron presented himself with alacrity when summoned to Rowena Ravenclaw's presence. For kindness's sake, he had sometimes performed tasks for her which she could not entrust to her various servants. He wondered what she could need of him now that her health was failing so rapidly.

“Baron,” Rowena whispered imperiously.

He snapped to attention. “Yes, Lady Ravenclaw.”

“I desire to see my daughter one final time. You will fetch her.”

The Baron did not show any of the dismay that her request inspired in him. Helena Ravenclaw had been his fiancée, his only love and a thorn in his side until she'd disappeared a score of years ago. “It will be as you wish, milady,” he said with an abbreviated bow.

He rode all night and all of the next day, wearing out three of his Aethonan horses, tracking Helena Ravenclaw to where she'd gone to ground in Byzantium. Although 'gone to ground' was an understatement if ever such a complete misdirection was uttered. Helena was masquerading as the Empress Theodora. That unfortunate lady had died of a stomach ailment in the convent where Helena had been living.

Getting past the Imperial guards was child's play for the Baron. A Bedazzling Hex cast on a simple soldier's cloak did most of the work, with a few Confundus Charms to take care of anyone not properly distracted. Helena's security charms were more challenging and, but for the Baron's doggedness, nearly all impossible to work around. He was finally trapped in her chambers by an Impediment Jinx triggered by stepping on a particular, but unremarkable, floor tile.

“How did you find me?” she demanded. “Have you brought others with you?”

“I am alone. I could not trust this task to anyone else nor ask them to face the hardships I have in tracking your movements.”

“Why have you come?” Helena's tone was an exact duplicate of her mother's as she released him from her trap. “I rather thought we had said all there was to say to one another years ago.”

“Your lady mother is dying. She wishes to see you one last time.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Impossible.”

The Baron's mouth thinned. “I assure you, I speak the truth. She _is_ dying.”

“How do you know she is not dead already?” Helena countered.

He pulled a sapphire from his pouch. “When she is dead, the gem will go black.” The Baron took a breath and pushed his temper down. “Is it so unbelievable that she should want to see her only child one last time?”

Helena laughed. “No, I believe she wants to drag me to her deathbed. Even if I wished to, I cannot accede to her whims.”

The Baron clenched his jaw. “I can make a Portkey,” he said through gritted teeth. “You can be at her side nearly instantaneously.”

“My dear Baron, in case it has escaped your notice, I am running an empire here, not some insignificant school in the highlands of Alba, and not some tiny barony,” she scoffed.

“The mills of bureaucracy, like those of the gods, grind exceedingly slowly,” he sneered.

“But they grind small,” she finished his reference in clipped tones. “And they do not do so with a void at the top.”

“Lady Ravenclaw will be dead soon. Even if she wanted to detain you, she couldn't,” he tried for reason, even in the face of her obdurate _un_ reason. “Come with me, now. Surely whatever dispute you had with your mother is no longer relevant.”

“You do not know my mother as well as you think you do if you believe she ever forgets a slight.”

“With all due respect, Helena, that sounds like a tidy bit of projection.”

“You will cease to address me in that familiar way,” said Helena icily. “Regardless of the fact that I was not born into the Emperor's family, I _have_ served as Empress for the last fourteen years.”

“An exaggeration. Even in a _tiny barony_ , we do hear of the Byzantine succession, but,” he paused, holding up one hand to stave off further rebuke, “it will be as you wish, Your Imperial Highness.”

She nodded. “Better, but nevertheless, I shall not go with you.”

“You must! I promised--”

“I _must_? _I_ must?” she practically screeched. “You promised. I did not. You have no authority over me.”

“Helena--Empress, how can you call yourself a just ruler if you will not grant your dying mother's last wish?”

“How can she call herself my mother when all those snot-nosed brats were more important to her than I ever was?”

Anger and astonishment battled for dominance on the Baron's face. “How can you still be jealous of children after all these years?”

“ _I_ was her child,” she snarled, spitting a little in her rage. She took a breath and continued more calmly. “You never understood.”

It was an oft-repeated refrain and the Baron felt himself falling into their same old argument. “I still don't. I loved you, Helena. Why couldn't that have been enough for you?”

“How can you look around you and ask that question with sincerity?”

“I never thought you materialistic, but I would have given you anything, everything.”

“It is not materialism!” she snapped. “I'm finally in a position to shape the world. You could never have offered me that, not that it would have meant anything if you had to give it to me.”

“What good is it if you have no one with whom to share it?” he asked bitterly. 

“Share it!” she laughed. “Why would I want to share it with anyone? Least of all, you!”

The Baron's vision went red. The next thing he knew, Helena lay at his feet, gasping for breath, a gaping wound in her belly. He didn't even remember drawing his belt knife, but there it was, bloody in his shaking hand. How could this have happened?

“Don't let...them find me...like this,” she panted. “If you ever...loved me...please...”

Merlin, how could he have let her goad him to murder? He'd taken up arms to defend the people under his rule—what man of his position hadn't? But to draw steel on an unarmed woman, even though she be a witch, was unthinkable.

“Baron!” she whispered harshly. “I am undone. I would rather be...remembered as phlegmatic...not sanguine.”

Even at the end, Helena indulged in wordplay. Despite what she had said when she'd broken off their engagement, he hadn't just wanted her to be a brainless brood mare. He'd loved her for her quick wit, though it was often sharp when she turned it on him. Saddened beyond measure at the waste of all that intelligence he waved his wand to seal her wound. A quick Vanishing Spell cleaned up the blood and _Reparo_ mended Helena's torn robes.

Nothing would preserve Helena's life, though, nor salvage the Baron's mission. Overcome with remorse, grief and a crushing sense of failure, he turned his blade on himself. His final act was to place the knife in Helena's hand to make it look as if she'd killed an intruder and then expired of an apoplexy.

* * *

The Baron floated just outside the doorway. Rain fell straight through his ghostly form without pause. He watched Helena's shade drift slowly back and forth across the courtyard and tried vainly to feel something, anything.


End file.
